


pull me under

by mrsronweasley



Category: Clean Bandit (Band), Years & Years (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:28:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4297740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsronweasley/pseuds/mrsronweasley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What's the sweetest thing you've done for him?"</p><p>When Neil opened his front door, he'd been expecting an anonymous driver and a curry. He had most definitely not been expecting to see his boyfriend slumped in a hoodie, grinning from under the pulled-on hood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pull me under

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly thing because I was inspired. Not beta'ed, all mistakes all my own. Neil & Olly forever, etc. etc.

_"What's the sweetest thing you've done for him?"_

When Neil opened his front door, he'd been expecting an anonymous driver and a curry. He had most definitely not been expecting to see his boyfriend slumped in a hoodie, grinning from under the pulled-on hood.

Olly looked so out of place there that, for a brief crazy moment, Neil thought someone had sent him an Olly cutout as a cruel joke.

Then Olly moved, flicking a non-existent speck off Neil's shoulder and tipping his chin in a cheeky greeting, and Neil unfroze. Neil believed. And then his heart began to hammer inside his chest.

"Olls - Olly, what?" he asked.

"Surprise?" Olly shrugged. The move was familiar, achingly self-conscious. It had been two weeks but it had been a long two weeks. Neil sometimes thought he'd made up all the things he loved about Olly because surely nobody could be so perfect, but then he would see him, flesh and blood and piercing eyes, and a wave of reckless devotion would crash over him. God, he was so fucking lucky.

"Just fucking get in here," he breathed, already tugging Olly in by the hand and not waiting for him to acquiesce. Their kiss was like starvation nullified. Like a punch to the gut. Olly's taste bloomed on his tongue, in the corners of his mouth, filled him in everywhere until he was just a tiny bit closer to being satisfied. His own mouth had tasted of nothing until Olly had shown up in his life.

Neil was hard in an instant.

"Fuck," Olly breathed, barely even breaking off the kiss. Neil only opened his eyes because he had Olly to drink in. He'd boxed him in against the wall without noticing. The door was still bloody open, for fuck's sake.

"I _am_ going to ask all about how you managed to get off tour and get your arse all the way back to me," Neil whispered. "But first I am going to fuck you through the floor."

"Through the mattress," Olly corrected him, then sucked in his lower lip. It drove Neil crazy, all his little ticks. He was looking up at Neil through his lashes, knowing exactly what it did to him and clearly reveling. His pink-cheeked, debauched angel. "That flight was brutal on me back."

The last word elongated on the softest, sweetest consonant. It traveled up Neil's spine and shot through his skin in a jolt of want.

He kicked the door shut with his foot.

Once in the bedroom, Olly was the easiest person to undress in the universe. All his clothes were too loose, his body shrugging the layers off like a ready butterfly. His pale skin glowed under Neil's scrutiny, beneath his hands. Neil wasn't as dark as his mother, but his skin juxtaposed with Olly's in a way that he loved. _We, two seemingly different, we gel, we make a whole._

Olly always became tiny out of his clothes.

Neil backed him up against the bed, grinned down at him. Olly was hard already, flushed all the way down to his chest. His mouth was open, lips shiny, pink. They'd been silent since getting through the bedroom door, but their breathing filled the room in a way that left no space nor need for words. Neil had to give him just the briefest of nudges and Olly dropped down onto the bed, caught himself on his elbows. Gave Neil a grin of his own.

Neil went to his knees. Spread Olly's. 

The silence between _no sex_ and _sex_ was always filled with music in his head. Right now, he heard a Bach concerto, dulled by the blood in his ears, but it crescendoed as he let himself move forward, mouth on the inside of Olly's thigh. Light hair tickled his lips, caught on his tongue. It all smelled beautifully of Olly. 

When Neil took him in his mouth, Olly's soft shock of breath replaced concertos. God, Neil had missed his taste, his scent, his _feel_. Olly had such a lovely cock. Neat and now wet at the tip like a gift beneath his foreskin. Neil tortured him with his mouth. Every gasp, every _fuck_ that Olly breathed made his blood boil, gave his heart a wicked push. 

He wouldn't let him come like this, not yet, but Neil would wring pleasure from him until he could take it no more.

The doorbell rang.

"Shit." Olly fell all the way back to the bed as his cock slipped from Neil's lips with a dirty pop. 

"Fuck." Neil wasn't going to get that. He gave zero shits about his curry right now. But was it rude? It felt rude. It felt horrifically disgusting, leaving that poor driver at the door while he was blowing his boyfriend. "Shit. I'm sorry." He was already up off the floor, giving Olly a desperate look. "I have to get it, it's the takeaway, I –"

"Go, go, go," Olly laughed then flopped one arm over his eyes. His other hand was already straying towards his cock. 

"Don't you fucking dare," Neil told him as he shot out of the room. He checked that he had no unseemly fluids on his face in the mirror by the door. Seemed okay. He threw the door open, signed the bill, gave a smile, and then dropped the fucking curry on the floor after slamming the door shut.

He chucked his shirt in the living room, slipped out of his trackie bottoms, then out of his pants whilst looming over Olly. He was lying still on his back, one hand wrapped right around his cock, but not moving. His chest moved up and down, up and down. The look he was giving Neil was pure abandoned obedience. Neil grabbed the backs of his knees and lowered himself on top, got in between. Trapped Olly's hand beneath his own body. Devoured him whole with a single kiss. 

"Good boy," he breathed. "My good baby boy."

"Yours," Olly told him, huge eyes boring into Neil's. "All yours. All of it."

Neil fucked him just like that. Sideways on the bed, the duvet getting hopelessly wrecked underneath them. He watched Olly's face while Olly's body surrounded him. He was ecstasy made human, like every fantasy Neil had ever had before he'd ever even laid eyes on him. Splotchy pink cheeks, long eyelashes clumped with sweat, wanton mouth open on nearly soundless gasps. 

He fucked Olly until he was no longer soundless at all.

His hands kept slipping on the sweat between their bodies, he barely breathed. His body was alive, stirring to their rhythm. Olly moved with him so well, he knew Neil's every whim, his every wish. When Neil leaned down, Olly shifted to let him bury his face in the crook of his neck, mumbled a 'fuck, yes,' and melted beneath him as Neil sank his teeth into the tendon. 

Olly buckled, grabbed Neil's arse, pulled him in harder. Neil stopped breathing as Olly began to come, the sibilants of his curses filling Neil's ears. Neil fisted his hair. Olly cried out and shook and gripped Neil like a lifeline. It was all of it just seconds, mere moments of ecstasy, but Neil had felt in them a lifetime.

He waited for the trembles to cease before grabbing Olly's wrists, pinning them to the bed the way Olly sometimes begged him to in the darkness of three am, and fucked and fucked and fucked him until he was mindless, spinning into the vortex of Olly, Olly, _Olly_. Neil came with Olly's gaze burning through him, spurring him on with languid hips, encouraging with bitten, bruised lips. He had such dirty, sensual lips.

They split the curry between them later, sat on the living room floor and eating straight from the container. Olly ripped bits of naan and fed them to Neil with no irony. Watched as he chewed and swallowed. The music in Neil's head shifted to something less dramatic. Some movement; he could not quite recall its origin. 

"I missed you," Olly told him later still, head pillowed on Neil's lap. The telly was on something mindless. Neither of them was paying any attention. The hours were draining. Olly's flight back was looming already. "I _do_ miss you. Every day." He was looking somewhere beyond Neil, at a bit of wall. Neil sometimes wondered if the words Olly would later write first appeared in the empty spaces his eyes found. 

"I miss you more," Neil told him. He believed it. He believed Olly, knew he was loved, cherished. Adored, even. But he missed him with a viciousness he could not account for. A protectiveness worthy of a bear watching over her cubs. Every moment he did not know where Olly was, was a moment wasted, a moment fretted over. 

"Impossible."

This was their game. A loving one-upmanship, a connection of need. Neil smiled down at him, flicked the edge of Olly's nose. "Two more weeks isn't so much," he said with all the conviction he lacked. 

"It's forever." 

So dramatic. Neil lowered his old man bones enough to peck him on the lips. Olly shifted to lie flat on his back, open and guileless. "Let's stay up until your flight," Neil said. "I'll hire a car, we'll go together."

"Posh bastard." He smiled, though. Staying up all night was one of Olly's favourite things to do because he was a child at heart. So was Neil. 

"You love it."

"I do. If this whole band lark doesn't end up working out for me, I can be your kept man."

Ridiculous idea. Olly stood on the brink of true stardom. Soon, he would eclipse the sun. "Works for me," Neil told him, watching his face. Sometimes he just got too lost in it. Grace often mocked him for it. Even a tiny picture on his phone could keep him occupied for hours.

Olly reached up and touched a single finger to the space between Neil's eyebrows. He smoothed it up and down, up and down. A tension unwound in Neil's shoulders. "So pretty," Olly whispered. 

God, they were maudlin. Neil took hold of Olly's hand and turned it over. Traced every knuckle. He knew what kind of night this would be. A snatched few hours in which they wouldn't allow themselves to quite believe it was real and it would end. No small talk, no breathing room. Being in love was hard business, he was discovering. For every swing, a roundabout. 

He pulled Olly up and took him back to the bedroom. 

He turned off every light.

Let dawn find them just like this.

***


End file.
